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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26496010">Old Men</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeachGO3/pseuds/PeachGO3'>PeachGO3</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>X-Men (Original Timeline Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aging, Bickering, Canon Disabled Character, Domestic, Flashbacks, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-X-Men: Days of Future Past, Telepathic Sex</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 12:13:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,194</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26496010</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeachGO3/pseuds/PeachGO3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world that barely remembers the once devastating Magneto, Erik tries to find his way through ordinary life. And, as of now, he can’t decide whether having Charles by his side is counterproductive or a heaven-sent blessing.</p><p>For the Cherik Big Bang 2020.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>2020 Cherik Bang</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Old Men</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>mein Lieber = my dear, but has a teasing tone to it</p><p>Liebes = luv or dearest (very sugary diminutive)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s hard. The metallic spiral would be as easy to manipulate as it is to wiggle your toe. It’s not hard to do. It’s hard trying to stand the temptation. Erik feels his fingers twitch, making the whole apparatus shake briefly.</p><p><em>Don’t even think of it</em>, he hears Charles warn him from inside the kiosk with the newspaper already in his hand. <em>I know we agreed to ‘staying out of your head’, but if that means you’re planning on stealing candy, I’m afraid I must intervene.</em></p><p><em>It’s just a bar of chocolate</em>, Erik argues, eyes firmly on the spiral inside the vending machine.</p><p>“Yes, and people pay for these things,” Charles says as he rolls out of the kiosk. The newspaper is rolled-up in his hand. His eyebrows are raised but he can’t hide the smile around his mouth.</p><p>Erik glances at the vending machine for a last time.</p><p>“I could give you a dollar,” Charles offers, amusement now clearer in his voice.</p><p>“No, thanks,” says Erik, with just a little less hilarity. Curtly, he turns around to wheel Charles out of the shopping arcade. It’s too crowded in here anyway for his taste, considering Charles’ defatigation in large crowds.</p><p>“You know, your chocolate cake is excellent,” Charles muses on their way out. “You should rather bake yourself than steal from the innocent Mr. Patel.”</p><p>“It was not about the chocolate,” Erik clarifies with emphasis. And, sadly, a little annoyance. He knows full well that <em>Charles knows full well</em>, now that he’s been inside his head again. “Not everyone can use their power as discretely as you,” he says, strictly avoiding any eye contact with the other pedestrians.</p><p>“I’m not using it to get things for free,” Charles argues.</p><p>“Right, you’re the angel,” Erik says sarcastically but without malice. Instead, he actually smiles at the memory: “It was <em>solely</em> your human persuasion leading the lady from the museum to let us in after closing time of the ticket office.”</p><p>“We were only five minutes late,” Charles says in genuine self-defence, and Erik can hear the frown in his voice.</p><p>“Five minutes are five minutes,” he muses.</p><p>“Oh, don’t talk as though you didn’t have the time of your life, visiting that lonely observatory,” Charles snaps. “<em>That</em> I have noticed without any peeking inside.”</p><p>Charmed, Erik swallows down any comment on that, because, yeah, Charles was right. Like he usually is. Erik’s lips curl into an affectionate smile that makes the wheelchair hum joyfully for a moment. Charles chuckles.</p><p>They head for the park, where Charles can read his newspaper at the large water fountain, while Erik sits by his side, watching people and pigeons pass by. For a while, he had considered bringing old bread crumbs to feed the birds when visiting here, but he feared it would become a habit, a habit that would make him end up buying bread <em>specifically for those birds</em>, and <em>then</em> he would have finally reached it: The stage of giving up, the impasse of total resignation.</p><p>“You’re so overly dramatic,” Charles comments as he flips to the next page.</p><p><em>No peeking</em>, Erik groans.</p><p><em>Sorry. I wasn’t peeking, it’s just… You’re that loud. In your concerns. It’s hard not to listen. I can’t just cover my ears, and you know that. </em>Charles sighs softly and lowers the newspaper. <em>Everyone gets old, Erik. Even mutants.</em></p><p><em>Not that old</em>, Erik argues, still not looking at Charles because he is genuinely shocked at how easy they fall back into this intimate pattern of telepathic communication. Once, it had been so exciting, but now it felt like a telephone line that’s solely used for bickering.</p><p>And what is Charles talking about anyway? Each day, Erik’s old age is made clear to him, be it through more pain in his back, more inflexibility, drier skin, or even the way the mansion’s students look at him, their eyes so full of pity.</p><p><em>They respect you,</em> Charles whispers.</p><p>“What’s on that title page, hm?” Erik asks aloud before Charles can begin to unload his preachment onto him. Erik turns to face him, which is difficult, because the sun is blinding today. He squints his eyes.</p><p>“Um,” Charles says, looking a bit overchallenged (which is always a cute look on him). He flips back to the cover page. “A dog at the local animal shelter has whelped some time ago. They had found her pregnant, and now the puppies are born.”</p><p>Erik presses his lips together. “That’s the title page?”</p><p>“Yes, look,” Charles says and shows him the photo. Seven pink, naked, little worms. Their eyes aren’t even opened yet – “They do look charming,” Erik admits.</p><p>Charles frowns and looks at photo again. “They’re moles.”</p><p>“I think they’re charming,” Erik says and crosses his arms. Charles raises his eyebrows. “Do you want a dog?” he asks softly.</p><p>“I… didn’t say that,” Erik murmurs, careful to sound not too invested, which is another ridiculous attempt to deceive a telepath. But Charles just nods and then continues reading.</p><p>Erik shudders at the image. Two old men with a dog, tse.</p><p>In a way, they <em>have</em> already surrendered. They don’t do anything specific anymore, even their chess games have become something of an obligatory ritual than an actual activity. Most of the time, they just sit next to each other, Erik has realised some time ago. Not that he particularly disliked it. Or maybe he did? It was just… different. It was like all those old people sitting in the park, feeding pigeons.</p><p>“By the way, Logan said he’s going to pick us up at twelve.”</p><p>Erik groans and sinks deeper into the bench, arms still crossed. “You know I don’t feel comfortable with him driving us around,” he says.</p><p>“He said he doesn’t mind.”</p><p>“Well, I do mind, thank you very much.”</p><p>At that, Charles laughs brightly, and it’s like music in Erik’s ears, despite the added comment about Erik’s bad eyesight and how he should never be allowed to drive a car by himself ever again. It’s kind of true. Charles is always right.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Charles and Erik find themselves spending more time in the mansion’s kitchen than before, doing basically nothing, as Erik has already adjudged several times. But tonight, he doesn’t mind. The kitchen is comfortable because of all the metal inside, so doing his sudokus in here is rather stimulating. Charles sits at the table’s other end reading a book about medieval church architecture or something.</p><p>It’s all very soothing.</p><p>Erik’s eyelids are getting heavier, and the numbers on the paper seem to blur slightly.</p><p>Just now, he feels something brush his mind, light as silk and rather fleeting. He looks up over the rim of his reading glasses to the other end of the table, where Charles is still just reading his book, trying to look unsuspicious. He peeked yet again, didn’t he? “Don’t tell me the number,” Erik says.</p><p>Charles hums questioningly and looks up, and it makes Erik’s lips curl in a smile. “I said,” he repeats, “don’t tell me the missing number.”</p><p>Sitting totally still, Charles holds his gaze a little too long. <em>I wasn’t thinking about numbers, you know.</em> With that, the silky feeling is back, brushing Erik’s mind with the light tease of a feather, knowing its way despite the long time of abstinence. It lingers.</p><p>It’s supposed to be seductive, but Erik’s surprise is bigger than his pleasure: <em>We haven’t done that in years.</em></p><p><em>That’s precisely why I thought</em>, Charles smiles, looking down at his book again, <em>that you’d be interested.</em></p><p><em>Interested?</em> Erik thinks, tensing up under Charles’ telepathic touch. Soft. He glances up to find Charles looking at him with fascination, as though this was their first time touching each other like this. Charles’ mouth falls open, but the words come from his beautiful mind when he asks, <em>Are you? I know I am.</em></p><p>Afterimages of naked skin shine inside Erik’s mind. And the touch wanders, to chest and arms, embracing him. Lingering a bit longer on the spots that it knows are Erik’s favourite. It warms not only physically but mentally. And Erik can feel it, taste it, and it does please him, just not in… <em>that</em> way. It’s comforting, yes, and on Charles’ part, it is most definitely sexual.</p><p>He has that look in his eyes again. Oh yeah, most definitely sexual.</p><p>Pulsating, the touch rubs circles, but it doesn’t make Erik melt like it used to do. <em>Mein Lieber, you’re still very good at this</em>, he says, slowly drawing away from the warmth. <em>But I’m not in the mood.</em></p><p>The touch pauses, still warming him for a while. As does Charles’ smile. Softly, he replies, <em>All right then, darling.</em></p><p>Erik exhales through his nose as the warmth leaves him. He needs to adjust to reality, and it takes him a few seconds. He rubs his face.</p><p>What he would have given to <em>have</em> Charles in this way only months ago! But now…</p><p>“I’m sorry, Charles,” he says. “I’m… too tired.”</p><p>“It’s all right. It is quite late. Maybe we should call it a night.”</p><p>“Oh, you can stay if you want to,” Erik says nonchalantly, hoping that his regret is not pouring out of his mind right into Charles’. “I’ll go to bed alone, I don’t mind.” He is already rising out of the chair, letting the glasses float from his face with a passive thought.</p><p>Charles watches him with a smile. “All right. I won’t be long either though.”</p><p>“Good,” Erik smiles. “Good night, Charles.”</p><p>“Good night, Erik.”</p><p>With that, Erik leaves the kitchen. Some students are still playing in the corridors, screaming loudly. Charles has exaggerated, it isn’t even that late. Is it reprehensible to be upset about something like a regular sleep schedule?</p><p>Erik groans.</p><p>The children playing in the hallway are a group of five, maybe six. These runts are <em>noisy</em>, but most important of all, they are now running up and down the stairs, and the sudden anger Erik feels makes the great floor clock shake. “Will you be quiet?” he calls, metallic roaring supporting his voice.</p><p>It works, they all sit down on the last step, and the gratification puts a smirk on Erik’s face. However, it disappears quickly once he needs to climb these stairs himself.</p><p>At the end of the corridor, he spots Ororo shaking her head at him, much to his moroseness. He proceeds to his chambers wondering who exactly he was angry at, because it somehow wasn’t the kids. It’s just that being upset about loud children is an old people thing, isn’t it? Not being able to walk the stairs most definitely is.</p><p>A weird thought crosses his mind as he goes to bed, namely that he should have been grateful that the children had not tried to be falsely polite towards him because of his age.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Trying to change things up a little bit, Erik has invited Charles to go out for dinner. They don’t usually do that, because Charles tends to grow weary of large crowds, and Erik cooks well enough to serve dinner at the mansion. But tonight should be special.</p><p>Or maybe Erik just needed to get away from the mansion. He glances upwards to find Charles looking at him through the soft candlelight. He smiles, and Charles chuckles with a slight blush, which makes Erik smile even wider as his gaze returns to the menu in his hands.</p><p>Charles is a hopeless romantic, and that chuckle alone has been worth the trip.</p><p>After a few minutes of discussing the menu, the bubbly waitress arrives to take their orders.</p><p>“I’ll have the potatoes with sourcrout.”</p><p>She jolts down some notes and slightly bounces on her feet as she does. “Very well. And for you, sir?” she asks.</p><p>“The baked potatoes, I believe,” Charles says with an adorable grimace of indecision. With a fond look towards the waitress, he adds, “Oh, and make it a senior plate, please. I don’t know if I could handle the big portion.”</p><p>“No problem!” she beams, adding more notes. And then she turns to Erik, asking, “Would you prefer a smaller portion as well, sir?”</p><p>Erik straightens up slightly to glare at her. “I didn’t ask for it, now did I?” he says icily.</p><p>
  <em>Erik.</em>
</p><p>“Sorry, sir,” the waitress says, her smile dying slowly. “I did not want to sound disrespectful. I’ll be back with your orders right away,” she says, collects the menus and disappears from their table.</p><p>Grumbling, but pleased with his self-respecting attitude, Erik leans back. Charles leans back too, but his eyes are cold. “Erik, what was that?” he asks.</p><p>Erik laughs sarcastically, out of disbelief, really. “She can’t just ask me that, out of nowhere,” he argues with a tone of finality.</p><p>Charles blinks. “Maybe. But she was asking out of politeness.” <em>She was </em>not<em> attacking you. She apologised right away.</em></p><p>Oh, here we go.<em> Rightly so. Don’t you think she behaved inappropriately?</em></p><p>At the other end of the table, Charles sighs, eyes still on Erik. Trying to instil remorse into Erik’s mind. <em>I do understand you. But please try and understand her as well, all right? She was just trying to do her job.</em></p><p>Erik avoids his gaze, sulking. <em>I don’t really think you want to understand me.</em></p><p>It’s then when Charles rolls his eyes and unceremoniously chucks his napkin onto the table. “Oh, good Lord, I never should have asked her about it!”</p><p>Yeah, maybe he should not have. Maybe he should have added that bit telepathically, although it’s very much like Charles to ask her verbally than infiltrate her mind.</p><p>Still, what about that nonsense? It is exactly what Erik had always feared, people treating him as though he’s old and fragile and doesn’t even have the dignity to eat properly anymore. Erik apologises half-heartedly when the waitress returns with the orders, and she says it’s all right, but Charles did not talk much with Erik anymore.</p><p>Fine. It’s not as though Charles would understand anyway. It’s different when you can just <em>make</em> people view you as anything you want. Quite the privilege.</p><p>When they leave, Erik has little desire to marvel at the starry sky as Charles does. As he sits there in his wheelchair, just looking upwards, Erik freezes a few feet beside him. His breath crystallises in the air in front of his face as they wait for Logan to pick them up.</p><p>“Think he’d arrive during this lifetime?” Erik asks in annoyance, and it earns him another icy look from Charles, far worse than the cold wind. His otherwise soft features harden as he replies, “You have been an awfully nasty, old nag all evening, do you know that?”</p><p>“As if <em>you</em> wouldn’t know the answer to that.”</p><p>“I wasn’t looking into your mind,” Charles argues, clearly tired by this conversation. “I have been honouring our arrangement. It is you who’s been treating people awful these past few days. Several students have asked me if they had done something to upset you, and I have never had a proper answer for them, because you just yelled at them for nothing.”</p><p>Erik eyes him from beneath the brim of his hat. “Are you finished?” he asks quietly, and it makes Charles breathe in as though he was about to come up to him and punch his face.</p><p>“You,” he says, “feel scared because you’re no longer the Magneto you were sixty years ago, but you project all your fears onto the people who care about you.”</p><p>“She didn’t <em>care</em> about <em>me</em>,” Erik says with a hand pointing back to the restaurant. “She wouldn’t if she really knew me. All she saw was an old man.”</p><p>“Because that’s what you are!” Charles calls, earning him a sarcastic look from Erik. The iron in his blood is boiling.</p><p>“I am old, and you are old. But, Erik, that does not mean that you aren’t loved. You <em>are</em> loved,” Charles says. His ocean eyes blink as he adds, “<em>I</em> love you.”</p><p><em>Enough!</em> “That’s not what this is about!” Erik calls with a raised hand and assertive steps towards Charles. The sudden motion is so full of annoyance and rage that the wheelchair vibrates for a brief moment.</p><p>And Charles looks scared, eyes widened, shoulder pressed firmly against the backrest to get more distance between him and Erik.</p><p>It’s moments like these, Erik thinks, that Charles has been talking about. When his thoughts – <em>his rage</em> – is too loud for Charles’ mind. When its violence scars his beautiful, beautiful mind.</p><p>Rage makes Erik feel powerful, yet it weakens his dear friend. It has always been like that, at the core of every single one of their feuds, hasn’t it?</p><p>Face softening, legs shaking, Erik falls onto his knees in front of the wheelchair. The ground is cold and the pebbles pierce into his knees, but he can’t get up for life. Above him, Charles’ breath stabilises, and a hand comes down to stroke Erik’s hair.</p><p>Eyes pressed shut, he tries to speak. “Don’t you remember? Those times when I would float in the sky, with you in my arms? So far from everything else?” He can’t even bring himself to grab the wheels, or Charles’ legs. Or his hands.</p><p>Charles keeps caressing him, and whispers, “I know those were happy and carefree moments. We were on top of the world.”</p><p>“We were powerful,” Erik laments.</p><p>“But even being Magneto would not stop mortality, Erik. You will die. We all will, someday.” Charles’ voice is like a blanket, it’s safe, it’s warm, it’s welcoming. Erik wants to indulge, but a new thought keeps piercing his mind, and he can’t pull it out of his brain. It stings like a plastic nail.</p><p>“We are loved, and people care about us, and they will make the time that remains for us a good one. If you only let them.”</p><p>The thought drills deeper, stings, and bores into Erik’s heart, where it makes him bleed in horror and sucks out all his power. It’s the thought of Charles dying before he does. It’s unbearable.</p><p>“I know you’re right,” he sobs quietly, icy air making the tears freeze awfully on his cheeks. Charles is right, he usually is – so Erik repeats mentally, <em>I know you’re right. I just… don’t know if I can do it.</em></p><p><em>I’ll be there to help you. I’m always with you</em>. <em>You’re not alone.</em> Charles’ warm voice pours nothing but love and acceptance into his mind. It’s honestly the thing he does best, Erik admits with a bittersweet chuckle that quickly turns into a crying grimace.</p><p><em>I’m so, so sorry… </em>Erik says. And: <em>I am devoted to you. You are my everything.</em></p><p>Charles’ arms hug him afterwards, and Charles tells him accepting mortality creates meaning, and that everything will be all right, and kisses his hair and forehead. On their way home, Erik does not dare look up at the stars. They surely wouldn’t want someone like him to admire them.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p><strong>♡</strong> <strong>.•:</strong> <strong>the past</strong> <strong>:•*</strong> <strong>∴</strong></p><p> </p><p>The mansion is not too bad, Erik thinks. Comfortable (if old-fashioned) furniture, and solid building structure. But nights like this one in particular make it ridiculously appealing – sitting by the open fire, playing chess in candlelight, at a thick oak table.</p><p>With Charles.</p><p>What a peculiar man he is – never in his life has Erik met someone how <em>cares</em> this much. About the small things, about the big schemes. Not only is Charles Xavier rather charmingly invested in the fate of the mutants, no, he particularly cares about Erik as a person.</p><p>As a friend. It is almost too much to bear, because while Erik is grateful for that sentiment, he also cannot help but feel somewhat possessive, and selfish. He does not want to be <em>friends</em>.</p><p>Just as Erik has thought this to an end, Charles leans back, having moved the rook, and tries to keep his tone casual as he asks, “So… you’re staying. Right?”</p><p>Erik examines his soft features. Charles is so bad at stuff like this, and it makes him even cuter. “I’ll try,” he answers, and moves the bishop with an absent gaze. “Let’s see if we can recruit more students next week.”</p><p>Charles chuckles with a hand supporting his head and says, “Let’s see how long you can take it.” He pauses in amusement, nose scrunching. “Wait, I wanna imagine you as old and wrinkly.”</p><p>“I probably won’t stay <em>that</em> long,” Erik argues half-heartedly. Being ridiculed by this man does not make him angry, somehow. Instead, Charles’ soft smile makes him <em>weak</em>, so he continues, “Who knows what will be? Besides, there are still lots of people who respect the elderly.”</p><p>Charles smiles without taking his eyes off of him. “You’re always welcomed here, you know that,” he says softly.</p><p>Tensing up ever so slightly, Erik takes in the blue shine of Charles’ eyes in the warm firelight. Oh, Lord, he’s so grateful for having Charles. So in love.</p><p>And to Charles’ statement, he replies,<em> I do.</em></p><p>At that, Charles’ pretty mouth forms a silent ‘oh’. “You did that deliberately,” he says, sounding as though he’s still trying to figure out whether to sound scandalised or fascinated.</p><p>Erik’s mouth twitches, and, teasing, he replies, <em>Maybe.</em> Telepathic communication isn’t exactly his cup of tea, but it sure as hell is Charles’. Granted, there is something intimate about being connected so closely, but…</p><p><em>Feels good? </em>Charles asks, blue eyes searching, and the sound of his voice feels like the softest silk covering Erik’s psyche, reaching across the chessboard ever so carefully. Telepathy even smells, Erik finds, and inhales a fresh scent of grass and late summers.</p><p><em>I’d say so, yeah, </em>he replies, wondering how his own voice felt to someone as sensitive as Charles, and briefly panicking if he sounded clumsy or even made a downright fool of himself by trying to connect this way. It was as though the silk covered… shivering skin.</p><p>Charles leans back, eyes shining. His legs are crossed, but his body trembles slightly. Kneading his lip, he softly asks, “Do you have any idea how incredibly attractive that is?”</p><p>Erik breathes in deeply, eyes locked. When was the last time someone has called him that? Are they flirting? Does Charles…? Erik’s mouth twitches, and he nonchalantly points to the chessboard. “Don’t know. Your turn.”</p><p>
  <em>Do it again.</em>
</p><p>“Hm?”</p><p>It’s like the silk touch reaches out to Erik without being able to touch him. Anticipating.<em> Talk to me this way.</em></p><p>Erik looks up. “What’s the magic word?”</p><p>Charles’ face breaks into laughter. “Oh, you fucker,” he laughs, still intrigued. With a bit more boldness, he adds, “Y’know, Erik, it’s foolish to try and hide your desires from a telepath.”</p><p>Erik tilts his head. “Not as ‘attractive’?” he asks, trying to pull the silk towards him, ever so slightly.</p><p>It works surprisingly well and makes Charles inhale shakily, features hardening, and his hands try to find hold on the couch’s armrest. He looks as though he’s bracing himself for a car crash (which probably isn’t that far from what Erik is about to do to him).</p><p>The silk writhes. “I think it’d be considerably more… attractive,” Charles says carefully, “if you would just follow your… instincts.” <em>Come on over already and tear my fucking clothes off.</em></p><p>After this, Erik needs no second invitation. The way around the oak table seems ridiculously short, and yet it takes far too long for him to finally reach Charles and that pretty little mouth of his. Erik feels so obscene shoving his tongue down his throat, but Charles is no better, pushing up his hips to rub his erection against Erik’s.</p><p>They make out heavily, sprawled all over each other in desperate need for more touch. It feels so right, and Erik shivers at the sensation of Charles’ small body beneath his hands, blood running wild. Thank God for putting iron in that stuff.</p><p>Charles pants next to his ear <em>and</em> inside his mind. <em>Jumping onto me like that…</em> <em>You didn’t even ask me for dinner first… or a dance…</em></p><p>Erik tries to ignore the teasing comments, continues kissing him, but it’s goddamn hot, he even tastes the feeling in the back of his throat. It smells like sex. Charles is downright ravishing with all his pretty little noises, his warm body and sweaty skin. And that curious telepath thing he has going on that makes Erik shiver with featherlight touches in his nape.</p><p>Like a wild animal, Erik’s mouth travels down his neck, where the taste intensifies rapidly, and he can notice Charles putting two fingers onto his temple, and then, with the impact of a brick wall, Erik can feel Charles’ arousal all around, as though a curtain has been lifted.</p><p>Thrown into the hot water that is Charles’ lust.</p><p>He can <em>feel</em> it, not only against his own groin, but all over his body, like a bone-deep shower of prickling heat and momentum. It makes him moan, writhe on the couch with his sweaty shirt sticking to his skin, and all the while Charles’ teary ocean eyes are right on him, watching in delight and bittersweet romance. <em>That’s what you do to me, Erik, </em>he says.</p><p>All this time? They are not even undressed, and yet Erik feels as though Charles has just completely exposed himself to him, showing a kind of vulnerability that runs deeper than being physically naked. Has he suppressed all this desire, this appetite, every time he was with Erik? The thought is tragic and intoxicating at the same time, and the poison works quickly between them.</p><p><em>Guess I’ll have to take the consequences</em>, Erik manages to get out in the noise as they desperately continue touching each other’s bodies and minds, trying to breathe, trying to comprehend. And in their heads, their moans echo like faraway sea waves, making them fall.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p><strong>♡</strong> <strong>.•:the future:•*</strong> <strong>∴</strong></p><p> </p><p>The art of buying and gifting flowers is a lost one, Erik thinks. A bouquet of flowers used to be a secret language code. A wrong colour, or even the wrong number of flowers, could lead to downright insulting messages.</p><p>Erik wonders whether he should take the language of flowers into account when buying the bouquet. He’s been staring at the display for a few solid moments by now. Surely the young florist must be getting nervous by now, as must Teddi outside the shop.</p><p>When she finally approaches Erik, she sounds almost conspiratorial: “Are you looking for something special, sir?”</p><p>Erik straightens up and gives her a worried look. “Quite the opposite, I’m afraid. I was on my way home and…” He scratches his head. “Spontaneously, I decided to bring some flowers for my dear friend Charles.”</p><p>“Oh, what a nice gesture! I’m sure he’ll be tickled,” she smiles (florists must be a joy for telepaths to be around, Erik thinks).</p><p>“It shouldn’t be too grand or anything,” Erik shrugs, already regretting the amount of thinking he put into this ‘spontaneous gesture’. The florist continues to show him some sweet little bouquets.</p><p>In the end, Erik winds up buying a gigantic one, with lots of lavender and peonies that give it a lovely smell.</p><p>“I thought peonies represented ‘anger’,” Erik remarks as he watches the florist bind it.</p><p>“Oh,” she goes and laughs, “I think they used to, actually! But nowadays people buy them all the time, for their loved ones. I even prepare them for weddings quite frequently.”</p><p>Erik’s face softens. “Is that so?”</p><p>“Hm-m. I think people think of them as super-romantic, and I can’t blame them – I mean, the blossoms look gorgeous, and they smell just as nice!”</p><p>Erik nods. Curious how some things change. He carries the bouquet home like a trophy.</p><p>Being the cosy Newfoundland that she is, Teddi doesn’t tear at the leash, which makes going home very easy. As does the hat. Erik has always mourned them running out of fashion. Plus you don’t realise how handy they are until the sun shines as bright as today. It’s so warm… There’ll be a thunderstorm later today.</p><p>Blundering towards the mansion, Erik lets go of the leash to let Teddi jog to the students playing on the grass. A few meters closer to Erik, Logan is polishing his bike – or Scott’s bike, rather. “Does he know you’re cleaning it?” Erik asks, leash coiling up in his free hand.</p><p>“Yeah, we’re sharin’,” Logan says. He squints his eyes as he gets up. His hard features soften in a smile when he notices the bouquet. “Somethin’ special?”</p><p>“Oh,” Erik says with a frown and waves his hand. “No, just a small present.”</p><p>“Small?” Logan grimaces.</p><p>Erik gestures wildly. “Eh, you know. I thought of him and felt like getting flowers.”</p><p>“Right,” Logan says.</p><p>There is a pause as Erik begrudgingly thinks about how he must look right now: Long summer coat, hat of a grandpa, and a giant pink and purple bouquet in his hand. Squinting at the sun. He must look like a terrible gay. “It’s… what friends do,” he says.</p><p>“Right,” Logan says again and turns around to the bike. And as Erik walks inside, he hears him call, “Please don’t tell Scott, all right?” But Erik just hums in mock-disapproval and smirks as the door falls shut behind him.</p><p>When he enters Charles’ office, Charles is already at the door, opening it for Erik with a bright smile that totally catches Erik off-guard. It’s like he doesn’t even notice the flowers at first.</p><p>“Well, here’s someone beaming with good mood,” he smiles.</p><p>Erik laughs nervously.</p><p>“I’ve felt you since you put a foot onto the campus,” Charles explains in a charmed tone. He looks right over the bouquet into Erik’s eyes as though they were lying in a field of flowers, warm and bright.</p><p>Erik clears his throat. “For you,” he says eloquently and pushes the bouquet toward Charles, who takes it as though it were made of glass.</p><p>“Oh, Erik, they’re lovely!”</p><p>Just seeing him smile like this was worth it, Erik thinks. He takes off the hat and softens even further when he watches Charles drive around his office and look for a nice place to put them. “They look so nice that I want to showcase them in the hallway,” Charles muses. “But even more than that, I’d like them here with me.”</p><p>“I’m glad you like them,” Erik says and walks around the desk. There’s old bread on top of Charles’ usual notes.</p><p>“Oh, right,” Erik hears Charles say, “those are leftovers from today’s breakfast. I thought that maybe we could, you know, go feed some birds this afternoon. Like old people.”</p><p>Erik chuckles and looks in Charles’ direction, beautiful with the flowers behind him at the window. “I’ve already asked Logan, he’s fine with it.”</p><p>“Very well,” Erik agrees and shifts a lonely paperclip back to the others. “The park?” he asks. The pigeons will be looking forward to a feast.</p><p>“Oh,” Charles goes, “I was thinking about the harbour, actually.”</p><p>“The harbour?” Erik turns to face him, frowning. With a taunting look, he leans back against the table, hands folded. “Mein Lieber, there are signs at every corner that tell people to not feed the seagulls.”</p><p>“Says you?” Charles teases, knowing very well about the irony that <em>Erik</em> is pointing out the offence. It tickles Erik’s fancy though, and he smirks lovingly. “Very well,” he smiles. “The harbour it is.”</p><p>“Splendid,” Charles rejoices. “Just let us fetch Logan real quick. I’m sure he’s eager to get away from Scott.”</p><p>“So, you heard?” Erik teases and wheels Charles out of the office, both snickering. Behind them, the bag of leftover bread follows by floating at the tip of the metallic fastener.</p><p>The harbour is a comfort space for Erik because of the giant metal ships arriving and departing from New York, and Charles knows that. Throughout the drive, they billed and cooed in the backseat, but Logan didn’t mind (he had relaxed considerably once the car had left the campus, knowing that the bike was back in its original place before they left).</p><p>“Call me when you wanna go home,” he says after dropping them on the parking.</p><p>They’re not the only old people visiting today. The small tchotchkes stores and benches are still quite crowded, despite the grey clouds approaching.</p><p>Miraculously, the bench closest to the water is vacant.</p><p>“What luck,” Erik teases with a smile. He’s rewarded with Charles’ warm hand on his.</p><p>The afternoon is joyous and generally uneventful. Charles competes with Erik in feeding the seagulls who swarm around them, while simultaneously making sure that no authority figure was looking. He takes Erik’s hand when they watch the ships and cruisers. Metallic giants making their way through cloudy skies and grey waters.</p><p>As time passes by, more and more people leave, and soon they’re whispering sweet nothings into each other’s ears, holding hands and enjoying the time they have for themselves, without students interrupting, or any other obligations.</p><p>Erik knows that Charles loves to help, hell, it’s probably his best characteristic. But he also notices Charles growing weary and old, and he wants to make him forget some of the rest of the world by being with him and tattle and banter and kiss.</p><p>The wind picks up speed, and by now, they’re the only ones left in the tourist area. Erik watches a particularly large containership arrive and smiles at the soft vibrations he can feel from it. Charles runs a gentle thumb along his hand and opens his mouth to say something. However, he gets interrupted by a waitress from the harbour café approaching them.</p><p>“Excuse me, would you like a blanket? It’s getting cold,” she smiles. They gladly accept her offer and snuggle up beneath the warm wool.</p><p>With the wind getting stronger, Erik folds up his coat’s collar and grabs his hat in order to keep it on his head. Charles chuckles in adoration, but when he looks up into the roaring sky, he falls completely silent. And just watches in awe.</p><p>“Natural phenomena become so much more impressive once you’re no longer one yourself,” he muses.</p><p>Erik glances at him, only to squeeze his hand on top of the blowing blanket. ‘Natural phenomena’. Sometimes he’d even thought of mutants as natural <em>disasters</em>. Now, he is nothing more than a loving disaster. Not that they’re animals, no, they still drink their whiskey with ice.</p><p>But how far they had come. What they had achieved! How much time wasted by fighting one another. How much time wasted by trying to figure this all out, Erik thinks.</p><p>The grey clouds above them wander like a moving painting, thunder roaring softly in the distance. The cold wind whips up the ocean into sharp waves, and Erik wonders if the water might be warmer than the air above.</p><p>Charles had fished him out of water over sixty years ago. So long ago! How cold he had been, and how warm Charles had made him feel… How safe! Sapphire eyes shining through the night! Maybe that image is still somewhere down there, forever preserved in the currents. It surely is inside Erik’s heart.</p><p>‘You’re not alone. Erik, you’re not alone.’</p><p>
  <em>Nostalgic?</em>
</p><p>Erik turns to him, eyes wide. <em>Oh, Liebes,</em> he sighs and gives him a weary smile.</p><p>Charles smiles back warmly, and a single tear runs down his cheek. Erik instinctively reaches out to wipe it away. Charles gently catches his hand and presses a kiss to it. And their hands stay locked and warm. They couldn’t have had this years ago, but oh, how the times have changed.</p><p>While sitting like this feels special and momentous, the rain clouds come rapidly closer every second, and soon Erik feels a cold drop of water fall onto his hand.</p><p>“Hurry,” Charles chuckles, and they make their way inside the café. It’s warm and cosy inside, with soft music playing, and the same waitress from before takes their coffee order.</p><p>Storm raging against the panorama window, they watch the rain come down. The world outside seems so grand that Charles’ feel of overpowering gets swept into Erik’s mind like an ocean wave.</p><p>He’s so beautiful when he doesn’t notice his telepathy leaking, Erik thinks and looks down in adoration. Beloved Charles…</p><p>The music fades into a new song, and that makes the waves turn into splashes of joy. Charles’ eyes meet Erik’s shining as he starts grinning.</p><p>
  <em>Thinking the same, are we?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Absolutely.</em>
</p><p>Charles puts down his cup to let himself be pulled to the other side of the table, where there’s room enough to dance. Erik turns the wheelchair with a bit of metallic power and even spins it around, hands always locked.</p><p>Other costumers snicker, but Erik hardly hears it. He only has eyes for Charles’ smile. And finds that he cannot stop smiling himself, no matter how hard he tries to. They dance as the storm rages on, until some sunrays break through the clouds, making the ocean glitter.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>We’ll meet, I know we’ll meet beyond the shore<br/>
We’ll kiss just as before<br/>
Happy we’ll be beyond the sea<br/>
And never again I’ll go sailin’</em>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you so much for reading (*´▽`*) Unfortunately I haven’t heard from my artist, but the lovely mods advised me to post anyway. I hope I can add some artwork later on, and that my dear artist partner is fine!</p><p>The pandemic really grounded me in the relationship to my grandparents, who are both above the age of eighty. It helped me write this one. Please stay safe everybody ♡</p></blockquote></div></div>
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